As predictable and inoffensive as a squibber to first, “Mr. 3000” lacks greatness in the way a minor-league pitcher lacks a quality fastball. If the baseball movie pantheon could be expressed as a lineup card, I'd pencil it in somewhere between Tom Selleck's “Mr. Baseball” and “Major League 2.”

Granted, there are some bright characters and modest chuckles, but you expect a little more from Bernie Mac (“Bad Santa”), here playing flashy Milwaukee Brewers hit machine Stan Ross. Enshrined by director Charles Stone III — he of the underseen drug-pusher saga “Paid in Full” (2002) — as the ultimate embodiment of the selfish, fame-first modern ballplayer, Stan gets his cherished 3,000th hit and promptly hangs up his jersey — in the middle of the 1995 pennant race, no less.

Years later, Stan has grown a cottage industry out of his milestone (he owns a bar called Mr. 3000 Beers, a salon called Mr. 3000 Cuts, a pet store called Mr. 3000 Paws, etc.) while tirelessly lobbying for admission into the Hall of Fame. It looks like Stan might get his wish until baseball historians discover a book- keeping gaffe: three of his hits were mistakenly counted twice. Mr. 3000 is actually only Mr. 2997.

The rest of the film smacks of “Space Cowboys” on a baseball diamond. With the Brewers in the cellar and the end of the season looming, the general manager (“Sex and the City” stud Chris Noth) agrees to let 47-year-old Stan back on the team to collect his three hits and reclaim his place in baseball history. In terms of geriatric feasibility, this premise isn't as far-fetched as it sounds — Atlanta Braves first baseman Julio Franco is playing in the majors at 43 (and some say he's even older).

Getting the three hits is easier said than done, of course. Bum knees, slower reflexes and the filmmakers' attempt to inject Stan with a formula dose of humility all conspire to slow his march to 3,000. Only the most near-sighted batter could fail to pick up the spin on this curveball: Before long, Stan — the reviled egomaniac — is thinking more about the team than himself.

It says something about “Mr. 3000” that the funniest performance could be the one delivered by Paul Sorvino, who as the Brewers' long-suffering manager doesn't utter a word until the very end of the movie.

And we'd be remiss not to mention the obligatory love interest, an ESPN reporter played by Angela Bassett (“What's Love Got to Do With It?”) whose functions are limited to nagging Stan and telling him what a champion he is in bed. Understandably, Bassett seems restless in this irrelevent girlfriend role. As if to compensate, she applies a little extra English to her performance, a little craziness for flavor. And it works. In a movie full of straight lines, she alone comes off as a bit of a screwball.